Choices
by Hidden Decay
Summary: SSHP slash. Harry Potter's life was full of choices. He had no idea the last choice he would make would directly affect the nature of his death.


Author's Note- Just a thing I decided to write. I mean, honestly, vampires? YUM! And yes, there are likely direct Anne Rice ideas in here, which I don't own of course, but could I help it? Of course not! Could any of you? Anyhow feedback is appreciated and I hope you enjoy! Oh and some unabashed pimping of my LJ hidden(underscore)decay. Feel free to friend me there. I feel lonely.

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Life is all about choices. I've heard that before, somewhere, though I can't remember exactly who said it first. Well it is true. My entire life has been based on a choice.

The choice that resulted in my death was a choice I didn't want to make. Of course, I didn't think about it at the time, but most of the choices were ones I didn't want to make. I didn't want to be the boy who lived yet I chose to assume the role because no one else was going to do it. I didn't want to become a murderer, but it was the only way Tom Riddle was going to be stopped, so I chose to kill him.

And when Severus Snape asked me to pick a stone, I didn't want to. But I did, because it was the only way I was going to walk out of that place alive. Well… so I thought. But I jump ahead. Let me go back to the beginning and perhaps then you might understand. Perhaps then you will treasure the small choices you must make in your life.

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I had been working round the clock, on my twenty fourth hour with no sleep, when my team of Aurors received the mission. Up until this point we had been working on rather mundane cases like house raids and de-hexing unfortunate souls who had the ability to _somehow _turn their wand on themselves. Working the twenty four hour clock was rather common for me, but it was unwelcome suddenly, my lack of sleep, when the parchment landed on my desk.

I had been chatting sleepily with my partner, Dean Thomas, who had been through almost all of the horrors of my teenage-hood and we were counting down the minutes until we could go home. A large, brown owl flew through my window and landed importantly on my desk. We immediately recognised the owl as belonging to the Minister for Magic, a rather snobbish fellow by the name of Thomas Sodor, who had no idea how to properly govern the Magical world. The owl stuck out its leg and Dean quickly removed the parchment.

As the bird flew off, Dean unrolled the letter and his eyes widened. "Oh shit, Potter!" He shoved the letter at me. My eyes scanned the words but it took a moment for them to sink in.

Severus Snape.

Spotted.

Just an hour from here.

Our team was on capture.

"You've got to be joking me," Dean moaned. "We've _all _been up! What are they thinking?"

"They're thinking that we're likely the only team who can accomplish something like this, even working on no sleep," I responded dryly.

"Rubbish," Dean spat. "Weasley's team can function just as well as we can."

"Oh, but they don't have the boy-who-lived, do they?" I snarked, slapping the letter down atop my desk. "Well the order's come directly from Sodor, I suppose we have no other choice."

"Why does that wanker think you're the only one who can do anything round here?" Dean grumbled as he shrugged on his cloak and shoved his wand into his pocket.

"Because I made some dumb choice when I was seventeen, and by accident, killed the Dark Lord," I said with a shrug. "A decision I think I'll regret for the rest of my bleeding life." I shoved my own wand into my pocket and we started for the door.

Dean took the liberty of alerting the rest of the team, meaning waking the four other exhausted Aurors and telling them we had likely another eight hours or more ahead of us. I headed to the lift, rode down to the ground floor and stood by the Apparition point.

Twenty minutes later my team arrived, looking rather, cross and all of them grumbling to themselves. "Look you lot," I said wearily, "I'm not keen on hunting Snape today either, but the order's come from Sodor."

"Meaning we have no choice," one of the younger Aurors said. "Yeah Potter, Dean's already given us the pep talk."

"Ah, so I'm hearing grumbling, why?"

"Because this is rubbish," another new Auror said. "I should've listened to the others and requested a transfer."

It was true; I was blacklisted in the Auror department. Never mind I was the best man they had and always got the job done. It was sort of true of my generation, that we're all lazy sods. No one wants to work as hard as they make me work.

"There's always time for a transfer request, _after _we finish this assignment." With that, I motioned everyone into the designated Apparition square. All of them gave me cross looks, which I ignored, and together we disappeared.

The coordinates we had been given for Apparition landed us in a very old mansion that quite resembled a castle. It had likely belonged to some Duke or Lord or something that time had long since forgotten. The entire place was in shambles, the bricks rotted, the fountains dried and cracked. The garden was completely overgrown and there was no sign of a used path to the front door.

"What the hell is this?" Dean hissed as we crept forward.

"Apparently it's where Snape has been living," I whispered back. "Invisibility Cloaks on, everyone, and try to keep quiet. Snape's rather good at spotting invisibility cloaks; I know from experience. Remember your training on this and _do not _let him catch you."

They all knew well to be careful. They had heard the rumours as often as I had and none of us wanted to be disembowelled alive by our former professor.

We split off into our usual pairs, Dean and I, of course, leading the group towards the house. Dean and I decided to take the ground floor and the other split off to inspect the back gardens, any other entrances and any other structures on the property.

Dean and I quietly crept through the front door, well as quietly as we could, considering the damned door shrieked louder than a banshee upon opening. The two of us winced and froze until we were certain we were not found out. Stepping into the foyer, we noticed that the house was mildly decorated with ancient things; dusty furniture, Muggle portraits on the walls, and chandeliers were precariously hanging from rotted chains in the ceiling.

The floor creaked slightly under our feet but neither of us worried about it. We began to explore room by room on the ground floor and turned up nothing. "Let's go up to the first floor and see what we can find," Dean hissed. "I have a feeling this was a crap rumour just like all the others."

"We should still make a thorough search," I said back. Something in my gut was telling me there was something else here; I just didn't know what it was.

Dean agreed with me; he knew we'd be in for a load of trouble if we didn't do a thorough job, so he followed me up the stairs. Pushing back our fears that the damned staircase was going to collapse under our weight, the two of us headed to the landing and began the search of the first floor rooms.

Everything seemed the same as the ground floor until we reached the room at the end of the corridor. This room was different; very different. It was clean, dust free and above all, had a work table with a boiling cauldron in the centre.

I heard Dean catch his breath as we stood in that room. It looked exactly like Snape's laboratory we found when we did the search of Spinner's End. "Bloody hell," Dean breathed.

Sensing that no one was in the room, I boldly removed my cloak and stood there a moment. I was tempting Snape, asking him to come out. I was met with silence. Dean eventually removed his cloak and we began a quiet catalogue of the items in the room.

"Look at this," Dean said, nodding towards the shelf. There were phials upon phials of rare and common ingredients. On the second shelf contained what looked to be completed potions.

Dean bent closer to have a look. It seemed a rather luminescent blue phial caught his eye. I saw his hand reach out to touch it and I cried, "Don't!" but it was too late.

His hand touched the phial and it exploded. The potion splattered everywhere and before I could even wonder what it was or what was happening, darkness swallowed me.

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To this day I cannot tell you how long I was unconscious. When I woke, I was in a darkened room, lit by two candles, somewhere near the door. My eyes were fuzzy and it took me a moment to realise my glasses had been removed. I was unbound, and strangely enough, still carried my wand.

My senses returned rather quickly and I was on my feet. My blurry eyes scanned the room and made out four plain, stone walls, a door, the two candles and nothing else. I had been lying on the hard ground and I was alone.

"What the hell?" I moaned. My voice was hoarse and raw. I walked towards the door, held my wand with one hand and grabbed the door handle with my other. It opened freely. It was disconcerting, to say the least, especially since I woke in a place where I hadn't been before. I knew I was a prisoner, but I didn't know quite what kind.

Beyond the door was a corridor lit by torches. It seemed oddly Mediaeval-esque and I wasn't sure what to make of it. My feet carried me along the corridor until I was stopped by another door. The strange feeling in my stomach returned and I touched the door handle. It opened and inside I found a room rather like the one I had woken up in.

In the centre of the floor lay Dean, his eyes closed, his cloak pulled halfway over his face. I started towards him but movement in the darkened corner of the room caught my eye and I stopped. I pointed my wand as Snape emerged.

"Potter, nice of you to finally join us," he drawled. His sneer was so much the same as it had been when I was a young child, terrified of him, sitting in his potions class.

"Snape," I retorted back, my voice sounding braver than I felt. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"I expected you would laze about before finding your way here. Don't apologise."

I nearly laughed in spite of the situation and I took a step towards Dean. My eyes didn't leave Snape's face and he looked as blank as he always had. I wondered if he was going to try and stop me, and to test him, I knelt down beside Dean.

With the tips of my fingers, I prodded him but he didn't move. "Dean," I hissed.

"I'm not sure if one can _hear _in death, but I am rather certain one cannot _answer _in death," Snape said.

My eyes widened and I was instantly on my feet. "Bastard," I spat.

"Did you expect me to have changed in all these years, Potter?" he asked.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Did you kill him?"

"Did you intend on asking such a stupid question?" he replied back.

It was obvious; Snape had murdered him.

"So the rumours were true. You did murder all those Aurors."

"You say it so angrily, as though I had a choice," Snape replied with a shrug.

"You did have a choice," I bit out.

"I suppose I did have a choice, but I made the obvious one. Kill or be killed."

"They weren't here to kill you. Not at first," I said.

"They weren't, but they were to bring me to my death and I couldn't have that." Snape paused and then pointed a long, skinny finger at me. "Who are you to judge, Potter? I made the same decision as you."

"What?" I bellowed. "How dare you. I've never killed so I wouldn't be killed!"

"So what exactly do you call what you did to the Dark Lord?"

My ability to speak vanished and my legs weakened a bit. It was true. I had done the same. "But they were innocent," I finally managed.

"Not so much. All of you have become murderers in your profession. They were no different and they knew well the risks of the job," Snape replied.

He was right but at the same time, many of those Aurors had been dear friends. Anger welled up through me and I gripped my wand tightly. Raising it up, I pointed it at him. "I have the authority to become a murderer once more, Snape."

"I know," he said with a mild shrug.

His nonchalant mannerisms were starting to anger me more and I raised my wand more, pointing it in between his eyes. "I think I will act on it." Closing my eyes, I muttered the killing curse. "Avada Kedavra."

Nothing happened.

My eyes snapped open and I stared down at my wand as though it had betrayed me. Before I could look up, Snape was behind me, his arm wrapped round my neck, pressing ever so gently. "You are such a fool, Potter."

"Why won't it work?"

Snape's reached down and grabbed the hand holding my wand. He pressed his thumb into my wrist lightly. "Do you feel it, Potter?"

"Feel what?" I asked, my voice now betraying my fear.

"The magic."

And then I did notice it. It wasn't the magic I felt, but the complete absence of it. There was nothing. "What's going on?" I whispered.

"I'm sure you've heard of Dead Spots," Severus said in my ear.

I shivered and twisted my head round to try and look at him. "Those are a myth," I answered. I thought they were a myth. We had heard rumours of Dead Spots, places where no magic could manifest, but they had never been found.

"Clearly they are not," Severus said. "There are a few; I have been mapping them out."

"Why?" I asked. I was talking simply to keep him busy. I knew I was likely going to end up dead but I wanted to try to keep my life.

"Because, you fool, I needed to protect myself from wizards like you. I value my life as much as you value yours, Potter." Snape paused and then gave an eerie chuckle. "Listen to you, keeping me talking so I shall forget about killing you. That will never happen, not when your blood smells so fresh."

I suddenly felt the graze of something sharp against my neck and I managed to wrench out of his grasp. Why my eyes met his face I saw them, the small, almost unnoticeable fangs. "Oh God," I blurted.

"Ah, there is no God here either, Potter. Invoking his name will do nothing to save you."

"Have you always been?"

Severus shook his head. "Unfortunate accident working for the Dark Lord," he replied with a shrug. "Not so unfortunate now, since it's served me far better than magic ever has."

Before I could blink, Snape was behind me once again and dealt a hard blow to the back of my head. I felt the pain vaguely before I lost consciousness once more.

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When I woke this time, I had a better memory of what had occurred. This time I was lying on a sofa near a window. It was black outside, likely some early hour of the morning. My eyes were still foggy and my head was pounding. When I sat up, I saw Snape standing beside a small table.

"If you're going to kill me, hurry up about it," I snarked. I had no idea how to go about in saving myself and part of me just wanted to give up.

Snape let out a small laugh. It was chilling to hear him do so, very unlike him, and the laugh sounded out of place. I heard the sounds of something scraping across the small table and he walked towards me slowly, his hands clenched into fists held out in front of him.

"Did you ever play this game as a child, Potter? Pick a hand?"

The game sounded slightly familiar to me, though I was left out of many children's games. "I can't remember."

"Let me explain the rules to you, then," Snape said with a rather evil smile. He knelt down in front of me and held out his closed fists. "It's a choosing game, Potter. And I know how much you love choices." He paused and met my gaze for several moments. "Inside my fists are two stones, one red and one black. You will pick a hand and that shall determine your death."

"How I die or whether I live or die?" I asked, my voice steady despite my trembling insides.

Snape smiled again but didn't answer. "Make your choice."

I raised my pointed finger and was surprised that it was at all steady. I looked from his left fist to his right, and then back again. I had no intuition, no way to know which stone I would choose. So I let my finger fall on his left fist.

Snape's face was a mask of indifference as his fingers slowly opened, revealing the red stone. It was shining, very bright against his white palm. His lips twitched a bit and he said, "I was hoping this would be the one."

"Did you play this game with Dean?" I asked, my voice now trembling. I had no idea what was about to come next.

"Yes I did."

"Which stone did he choose?"

Snape paused for some time and just when I thought he wouldn't answer me, he said, "He picked the black stone."

I let out a breath but before I could feel at all relieved, Snape was upon me. His sharp fangs dug into my neck and as he began to draw out my blood, I felt the most horrific pain ever. They say, in some legends, that the vampire's bite causes the victim to experience ecstasy.

Well not this sort of vampire. Perhaps it's just because he's Snape, or perhaps they just wanted to romanticise the idea of sucking blood. Whatever it was, they were dead wrong. I wanted death. I screamed, begged for it as he pinned me there and sucked and sucked.

My eyes grew weaker, my vision began to darken and as it did, I felt him back away. Death was coming; I could feel it just beyond my reach. Then came sudden warmth.

It's all rather foggy in my memory now. All I can recall is warmth on my lips, in my mouth, running down my throat. I began to swallow involuntarily and as I did, things grew clearer. When my eyes finally opened again, it all made sense. I understood it all.

That's not saying I wasn't angry. I knew straight away what he had made me, what I had become. I didn't want to murder anymore and now I had no choice. Well, I did have a choice. I could kill to live or I could die.

When I looked into his eyes for the first time, after I woke from my true death, I could see the questions there. Something I could never see before. He wondered if I would hate him forever.

Probably.

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The actual hatred didn't settle in straight away and Snape didn't attempt to make my life any easier, or make me hate him any less. The first night was, more or less, riddled with confusion. My mind was foggy yet completely clear at the same time. I was having a difficult time accepting that I was now this monster yet I was still the same person. It was the oddest thing, to feel so utterly changed yet feel the same as I always had.

I slept alone that first day. That part of the myth became fact for me when Snape told me the rays of the sun would most certainly kill me. "Feel free to sleep outside if you are that miserable with what you have become," he said as I looked round my new room. It was a small space beneath the house, a comfortable room with a bed and no window.

"No coffin?" I snarked as he started towards the door.

"I can arrange one if you'd like," he replied dryly. He opened the door and started out.

When he was just about to close the door, I suddenly called out, "Why me, Snape?"

He paused, looked me in the eye and said, "For once in your life, Potter, you made the right choice." With that he shut the door.

The last comment enraged me beyond belief. I wanted to yell and to scream and I felt suddenly murderous. But the strangest thing, I couldn't bring myself to think a single violent thought against Snape. I fell on the top of the bed and as my mind tried to ponder this, a sudden, strange exhaustion overtook me and I fell into the deepest sleep I had ever experienced.

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The next time I woke, the confusion was replaced with anger. The hunger in me was utterly furious, wanting, needing, begging me to kill. That thought upset me more than I thought it would. I wanted to end this, to kill Snape. When Snape opened my door, however, I found I couldn't act on my desire to attack him. I couldn't meet his eyes and said nothing as he ventured into my room.

"Is there a problem, Potter? One that we haven't discussed."

I kept my eyes trained to the ground. "I hate you, yet I can't hurt you."

"You haven't even tried," Snape said and though I wasn't looking at him, I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I can't bring myself to try," I spat, still not looking up.

Snape let out a small sigh. "There are things to be discovered about yourself without my help. This, however, requires my explanation. We have formed a bond of sorts. Nothing so extreme as to force us together for eternity, but I am your sire. I know it's a silly sort of word, sire, but it's the best way to describe it. You cannot harm me and I cannot harm you. You're free to leave, however, if you cannot bear to be near me."

I finally looked up at him and saw what I assumed was sincerity in his eyes. It was the closest to kind from Snape that I had ever seen. "Fine," I bit out.

"Now, as I am utterly famished, I can well imagine you are near mad with hunger. I remember my first few nights as well and they were rather hellacious in the blood lust."

"Blood lust," I repeated, trying to get a feel for the term and detesting it immediately. I glowered at him but followed when he walked out of the room. "Where are we going?" I demanded as we started down what looked like an unending corridor.

"To our food, Potter," Snape said. "You will learn to understand that it is murder and you must commit it to live. Not only must you kill, but you must kill whether the person is innocent or guilty. It's all a matter of life and death."

"I don't need this philosophical rubbish, Snape. I know perfectly well what I have to do."

"Well, as you like to have things a bit sugar coated, Potter, I thought I'd try and make it easier for you." His voice was dripping with sarcasm and I suddenly hated that he had known me as long as he had. "I keep my food as prisoners," he finally stated as we approached a large, metal door.

I felt a bit of confusion by this statement, but it all became clear when the door opened. Inside was a dingy cell, a bit like the first room I had woken in, and there were three other men in there. They looked tired, frightened and upon closer inspection I recognised them all.

They were my team of Aurors.

"Oh Christ, Potter," one called Robins said, getting to his feet immediately. "Get us the fuck out of here!"

I don't know what horrified me most. The fact that Snape had taken my team hostage and expected me to eat them, or that I hadn't given a single thought to their safety after Snape had taken me. I looked over at Snape and he shrugged.

"Remember what I said," he replied.

"But these are my _men_, Snape."

"Were, as you no longer are alive. Well, I suppose they can still be your men, in a sense, if you wish for them to be."

I was disgusted by the idea and I shook my head. "I can't do this."

"You smell the hot blood running through their veins, Potter. Your body will not let you walk away from this."

Oh, and the worst part was that he was so, very right. I could smell it, hear it as the hot blood pulsed through their bodies. Their fear seemed to heighten the smell of them and my mind began to grow foggy.

"Not like an animal. Keep your mind, Potter," Snape whispered in my ear. His icy hand was on the exposed skin of my neck and he was so close that I could feel his breath as he spoke. "Take one. Which do you want?"

"Potter, what the fuck!"

"Potter, what's going on!"

"Potter, get us out of here!"

Their cries were growing hysterical and I could only imagine what I looked like to them. My eyes were half closed, my mouth hanging slightly open and my body was trembling with the need to drink. "I don't care," I managed to say.

Severus left my side, though my eyes were no longer clear enough to see where he was going. The hunger was all-consuming and the next thing I knew, I was in the corridor, bent down with the man in my arms. I didn't even know which Auror I had, only that he was so alive, so warm against my cold skin and his blood was pouring into me.

I'll admit that the blood doesn't taste amazing. It's not something I crave unless the hunger has me. The taste is the same as it always was. Coppery, too rich, like a dead thing in my mouth. But the want for it is overwhelming and the ecstasy comes from the utter relief when it enters my body.

That first kill was sloppy and hysterical. I sucked and sucked until he was drained dry. I paid no mind to the bits that were dribbling out the sides of my mouth and I didn't notice when he had died. I just kept sucking and sucking.

Eventually, his dead body fell from my hands and I stood up, my head swimming. I rubbed at my eyes as everything cleared and I suddenly realised what I had done. I had killed one of my team. One that had come along on this damned mission to capture and kill Severus Snape.

"Oh fuck," I said and fell to my knees. When I looked up, I saw Snape hovering over me. He had a bit more colour and a bit more warmth as his hand closed over my forearm and he pulled me to my feet.

"You've spilt a bit," he said.

I ran the back of my hand across my mouth and stared down at the dark smear. "Christ," I whispered.

"You didn't care for him," Snape pointed out. He absently took the sleeve of his robe and rubbed the blood from the back of my hand.

"Does it matter?"

"It should," he snapped. "What does their death matter if they mean nothing to you?"

"Because I killed him," I replied.

"Potter," Snape growled. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. His face was a mask of disgust and he dropped my hand. He led the way up into the main house and disappeared. Unsure what to do with myself, I stood outside and looked up at the night sky.

This was to be my eternity. This was to be my forever. With Snape. He had said I could leave but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to go.

Snape found me just before dawn. The sky was beginning to lighten and it was hurting my eyes. His hand fell on my shoulder and I looked up at him. "If you cannot stand it, you are free to leave this world."

I sighed. "I know," I said.

He dropped his hand from my shoulder and headed back inside. I hesitated a moment but eventually followed. Just as I made it to my chambers, the exhaustion took me over and I slipped into the blackness once more.

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I never bothered to ask where Snape got the prisoners he kept. It was far safer to feed off the people Snape kept below than to hunt. Here, we could hide the bodies. They went missing and no one was ever able to find them.

Snape finally told me we were constantly on the move because the Ministry would not stop hunting him. They believed him responsible for the death of my entire team, including me, which was, for the most part, true. It was safer for me not to be seen in public and to be honest, I wasn't feeling anxious to venture out.

Years passed this way. Snape and I moved a few times in those years, but we merely rotated properties. We always stayed in the Dead Spots and only three times were we ever found by Aurors. By this time I didn't know any of them and didn't feel any sort of guilt when I killed them.

I had noticed that Snape had stopped playing the game with the stones but I didn't call attention to it. I had long ago known that I craved his attention and bringing another would make me more jealous than I could handle.

Snape and I rarely touched but I craved his hands on me more than I was willing to admit. I wouldn't ever tell him this. I would never let him win, but oh God how I wanted him.

Things remained the same, routine, until one night. I was sitting outside, as I often did during the summer months. I was sitting on a low wall, alone with my thoughts, when I felt his hand, warm from a recent kill, settle on my shoulder.

I looked up at him and found his gaze locked on the horizon. I said nothing but allowed myself to lean into his touch. The only indication he gave that he noticed me at all was when he squeezed my shoulder a little tighter.

I looked up at him again and found his black eyes fixed on my face. I rose slowly to meet him and his arms encircled my waist. His face was so close to mine and I could barely see him. But I could feel him. He was there with me, as I had wanted for so many years.

His lips brushed against mine as he asked me, "Is this what you wanted?"

"You've always known," I said, more a realisation than anything else.

"Yes," he replied. He took me by the hand and brought me inside. We went down, below into our secret chamber, away from the threat of the sun. I had never seen where Snape slept before but now he brought me into the chamber. It was more lavish than mine, from years of living in it and caring about his own personal comfort.

Snape closed the door and started to dress down. I wasn't sure what was supposed to happen until he grabbed me by the shoulders and began to remove my outer clothing. We still wore robes and cloaks. Old habits die hard, I suppose. He dropped my cloak and outer robe to the floor. I allowed him to back me up to the bed and I sat down. He moved away and my eyes travelled to the small bedside table. Sitting atop, gleaming in the light of the candles were the two stones. They were just lying there, not placed in a particular arrangement or anything, but I couldn't take my eyes off of them.

Snape noticed this and touched the underside of my chin with the tips of his finger. "Potter," he said and then he paused for a moment. "Harry," he said next.

The name sounded so strange, so foreign in his voice. He had never said my name before and I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

"Severus," was the only thing I could think to reply with.

He knelt down and his lips met mine. I'm not quite sure how to describe what happened next. It's not the same as sex, as passion between humans. Yet, it is the same, the feelings. They aren't centred sexually but the ecstasy is similar.

No, that is not quite true. The ecstasy is far beyond anything I had ever experienced as a human. I couldn't find the words to describe the pleasure Snape brought me and when it was all over, I lay in his arms, certain I was never to leave.

We were slow to rise when the sun set again. Snape held me close to him, face to face. I leant back a bit to look at him properly and saw the same Snape I had seen since I was eleven. Same greasy hair, same sallow skin, hooked nose, cold eyes. His body was so thin; his fingers were skinny and far from gentle when they grasped at my skin. I hated him yet I craved him. Was it love? Is that what love was supposed to feel like? I had no clue.

I did know that all I wanted was him, that I could not imagine myself being myself without him. I told him as such.

"Foolish boy," he responded. The honesty in his words, that he found me foolish, caused a strange sort of pain. "You honestly think I wish to spend an eternity with you?"

I gave a half-shrug. "I wish to spend it with you."

"You don't honestly believe that," he corrected me. "You are still the same person, Potter. You will not last an eternity with only me."

"So why do I feel this way?" I demanded, sitting up angrily.

Snape sat up as well and crooked one leg up. "The bond. It's a rather simple concept, one I thought you had embraced quite some time ago."

"I have," I defended and then quieted. "I have, yet it still confuses me. I can't imagine myself without you."

"There will be others," he said with a shrug. "I was sired, Potter. I know how you feel. When you sire another, you shall feel the same for them as I do for you."

"And what happens to you?" I asked, feeling jealous and afraid.

"I begin my search again."

His voice was so quiet and so neutral that I had no idea how he truly felt. I looked at him for quiet some time before asking my next question. "Do you want me to find another?"

This was the question he didn't answer. And he never did.

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Over the years, I never brought it up again. I eventually grew enough courage to venture outside and Snape showed me the ultimate joy of feeding from a human of the world. It's comparable to having an exotic sweet, to dine on a human that is walking through the city, full of life. They are the opposite of our usual feeds, the men locked in our dungeon, doomed to die and knowing it well. The blood from those outside is so fresh and makes one feel as though they really could endure eternity.

Also, as the years passed, Snape began to venture about the world. I still wasn't brave enough for that, but I knew Snape would always come back to me. He would often go for years but he would always return alone and I was satisfied.

One night, about ten years after I had changed, Snape came home from a year long stay in France. He looked invigorated and he asked me to join him in London. I agreed, dressed, and together we began to walk round the city. It was almost as bright as I remembered the daytime to be and it was comfortable. We blended into the crowd, Muggle and Wizard alike. It was nice to know that the boy who lived would not be recognised.

Or so I thought.

Just as Snape and I passed by a café, a man wearing a grey coat brushed into us. The two of us turned to look back at him and our eyes met with the amber ones belonging to Remus Lupin. The shock was almost audible between the three of us. Neither Snape nor I had expected to see anyone we knew in this huge city.

We stood there utterly frozen to the spot. As Remus opened his mouth to say something, Snape grabbed my arm and we were gone. We didn't disappear, not like wizards do. We just used our powers to move faster than any human eye could see.

By the time we stopped, we were back at our home. I was totally out of breath, from shock mostly and I couldn't think of anything to say. It was Remus. Remus.

I had all but forgotten about him until this moment. And there he was, the glaring icon of my past. Because honestly, I had loved Remus dearly and this, suddenly, was a violent reminder of that.

I think Snape sensed it because he sat down beside me. He didn't offer any comfort and I expected none. He took a deep breath and then said, "You have other choices."

For the first time, I had to think about them.

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Two months passed before everything changed. I had been out on a walk by myself, and when I returned, Snape met me in the parlour. "I have a gift," he said.

That was odd. He had never given me a gift before and I wasn't sure what to expect. Instead of answering him, I followed him down. I frowned when he led me to the dungeons, as I had already fed, but when he opened the door, it all made sense.

There, in the centre of the room, just as I had been, lay Remus Lupin. He looked groggy and half-starved. When I looked at Snape for an answer, he simply held out his fist. His fingers uncurled and lying on his palm was the small red stone.

I looked back at Remus who was beginning to stir. "What is this?" I whispered. For a moment I feared that Snape had finally chosen another.

Snape took my hand and pressed the stone into it. "Your choice, Potter. He must become one of us. It is now between you or me."

I looked down at the stone and then at Remus. I did want Remus. I wouldn't lie to myself or to Snape about it. My body was aching for him as I stood in that room. I wanted the link to my past, a link that was not built upon hatred as it was with Snape. Yet as I looked at Snape's face I knew I couldn't lose him. It had only been ten years. Nowhere near an eternity, and I wasn't ready to let him go yet. I wasn't ready to have a bond with another. I couldn't do it.

"No," I finally answered. "Together or he dies."

Snape actually looked shocked for a moment. "Potter…" he said.

I shook my head. "No, Snape. No. This is my choice. Together or not at all. I know it's possible."

"It is," he said slowly. "But is it worth it to you?"

I looked down at our hands and I saw they had joined without me realising it. "It is."


End file.
